


Anchor

by RamblingMegome



Category: Free!
Genre: Bathtub Cuddling, Bathtub Revelations, Haru puts two and two together, Internal Rambling, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamblingMegome/pseuds/RamblingMegome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru sits in a bathtub with his best friend and contemplates things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaraBee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraBee/gifts).



> Woo so first AO3 publication here, please bear with me in case of weird formatting or anything, I don't really know what I'm doing yet.
> 
> This was written as part of a fic exchange with my friend SaraBee (there was supposed to be a smut chapter too but I might not actually get to that oops). But Makoharu makes me so incredibly happy and I enjoyed writing this.
> 
> My username has "Rambling" in it for a reason so just keep that in mind.

### Anchor

Makoto was giving him that _look_ again.

Then again, that was hardly a surprise, considering that Haru had recently come to the realization that his closest childhood friend gave him that Look a _lot._ And he didn’t quite know how to react to it. It wasn’t like the expression itself was offensive— those soft eyes crinkled even softer than usual, the edges of those lips turned up ever so gently, making for a face that couldn’t be described as anything other than… other than… something more than happy, he guessed. Whatever it was, ever since he’d started noticing this phenomenon, sometime between the whole training camp fiasco and when they’d finally cleared the air with Rin, it made him feel sort of short of breath and queasy, like maybe what he thought being seasick might feel like if it were possible for him to get it. It made his stomach do flips that should be well out of a stomach’s acrobatic range, made some force behind his ribs clench and swell and rise up to fill his throat.

The point was, seasickness was not something that should ever happen to Haru and he was offended that some force in the universe was conspiring to inflict such a thing upon him. But he was also conflicted, because no matter how he looked at it the source seemed to be Makoto, and how could he be offended by Makoto? It didn’t make any sense, and he didn’t know what it meant, and that bothered him.

“Haru, are you okay?”

The words drew him out of his reverie and he refocused on the cause of his troubles, who sat across the tub from him. The Look was gone, replaced with an expression of concern of a level that led Haru to think he must have been making a face. Now that he was paying attention he could feel some tension in his own brows, and he quickly schooled his facial muscles back into practiced disinterest.

“Fine.”

Makoto didn’t look too convinced, but Haru gave him a small smile, which seemed to relax him, and he resumed chattering about something or other that Nagisa had done today. Haru was getting better at that, at smiling. He didn’t think he’d ever get to the point where he did it as often as Makoto or as brightly as Nagisa, but he’d been learning lately that the disaffected stupor he’d wandered around in for years was not actually all that pleasant. It was like a weight had been lifted from his chest, like the taste of air after staying underwater so long his lungs screamed and his throat burned. He’d realized some things, like how lucky he was to have people who so happily hung around such a boring and single-minded person like himself, how the water wasn’t really the only place he had to feel safe, feel free. How Makoto, in particular, was just as much of a constant as his bathtub, but much more neglected.

Yes… neglected. The word sent a sharp throb of guilt to the pit of Haru’s stomach. Makoto had always, _always,_ been by his side, making him get to school on time, bringing him homework when he was absent and soup when he was sick, filling his otherwise empty life with soft smiles and everyday chatter, and somehow Haru had lost sight of him. Which is not to say that he didn’t return the favor by bringing mackerel when Makoto was sick (not the homework though, since he would inevitably end up soaking in his tub for hours longer than he should if the other boy didn’t come to pull him out), but his heart was on lockdown and he never thought much of it. His mind had been clouded by Rin, and the memory of pain— it had taken Rin’s reappearance, and the rekindling of that pain through his lashing out, for Haru to really notice Makoto again, realize that he’d had someone to rely on all these years. Realize how much Makoto’s presence had kept him grounded, rooted, anchored, prevented him from ever disconnecting from reality altogether. After all his long swims, when he let the water take him over, engulf him, sweep him away from his empty house and dull classes, forgetting everything but the sensation of cool water and weightless freedom, Makoto was always there to pull him back up. To smile, hand him a towel, and walk him home or watch him cook or just _be_ there with him through some mundane activity. Haru had never fully appreciated how much he’d needed that presence until he’d been thrown off balance again.

So lately, he’d been trying to make it up to him. He was making efforts to express his feelings, which was difficult— for one thing, because he’d never been good with words even before he’d closed himself off and that ability had only deteriorated with disuse; for another because it made Makoto look so _happy_ and then Haru had to go jump in the nearest body of water to make his stomach stop doing that _thing._ When words failed (as they often did, and the fact that Makoto had the uncanny ability to understand him even without them did little to assuage his guilt over his lack of reciprocation), he was attempting to do more in terms of small gestures. For example, inviting him into the tub for a pre-dinner soak after his post-practice swim that evening— although the look on Makoto’s face had almost made him reconsider as soon as he’d said it. Almost.

…Which led to the current scene of two high-school boys in their jammers crammed against either end of a too-small bathtub, one blithely rambling away and the other puzzling over his friend behind a face slightly less stoic than he would’ve liked. Haru looked at him, really _looked,_ and did his best to shove the way his ridiculous body reacted out of his mind. Makoto was a veritable giant, too big for a mere half the tub, and yet he’d drawn his knees far up to his chest in an attempt to give Haru even a little more space. His long arms were wrapped loosely around his legs, fingers absently stirring the surface of the water as he spoke. He’d forgotten to put on sunscreen again today (despite having made sure Haru had done so, he was always so fussy but tended to forget about himself), and he’d gotten burned— the tan of his skin reddened across his chest and shoulders, and probably his back too. His hair had dried funny today (probably because he let Nagisa clamber all over him while he was trying to dry off, being the endlessly patient soul he was) and was sticking up in places. All in all… he looked like kind of a doof. So why was Haru’s heart beating so hard?

“Haru…?”

Makoto’s voice was breathless, like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and Haru realized that the other boy was looking at him again, but it was… different this time. He was staring, wide-eyed and unguarded, jaw slack, almost… disbelieving, his cheeks and ears red from more than just sunburn. And Haru knew, without even needing a mirror, that he was looking at Makoto the same way Makoto had been looking at him all these years.

He gripped the sides of the tub and shifted onto his knees, moving abruptly, not giving himself the time to think better of it. The disturbance sloshed water over the sides of the full tub, and for once he didn’t care as he clambered forward, forcing Makoto’s legs away from his body as he climbed over them, planting his knees firmly on the floor of the tub on either side of his hips, the taller boy giving an undignified squeak unbefitting of his size but perfectly in line with his demeanor. Haru’s hands braced against broad shoulders, and they stared at each other, silent, terrified. He had never put himself this close to anyone, ever, what was he doing, why did he put himself in this situation this was bad—

—But Makoto didn’t have to be here. He didn’t have to wait by himself while Haru swam for an extra hour after practice, didn’t have to walk him home. But he did, every day, every _single_ day. If he’d been sick of indulging the other boy all day he didn’t have to accept the awkward invitation to sit in a cramped tub together. But he had. He’d done all of that, and so much more, happily and without a word of complaint, and Haru… finally thought he might understand _why._ The answer had always been written all over his face, after all. 

Wordlessly, he sank down, letting his weight fall more fully onto Makoto and burying his face in the crook of his neck. The other boy’s body was stiff beneath him and for a brief second he was horribly, irrationally terrified that he had misjudged, but a moment later those big, strong arms wrapped around his back, squeezing him tight, so tight, holding him like he would never let go. Haru could feel both their hearts racing beneath their damp skin as Makoto nuzzled into his hair, his short, shallow breaths ghosting past his ear.

It was getting late, and Makoto would be expected home for dinner soon. Maybe he would invite Haru to join them, as he often did, or maybe he wouldn’t. Haru didn’t know what would happen when this spell of silent closeness was broken, but he knew he was comfortable, despite the now lukewarm water and the slight chill in the air. He was comfortable, breathing together in easy silence with Makoto, their hearts long since slowed to a calm, steady beat. He was comfortable, and he didn’t feel seasick anymore.

It was getting late, and cold, and Makoto didn’t have to be there. But he _was._


End file.
